


Tasteful Date

by GiftsofGab



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiftsofGab/pseuds/GiftsofGab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokol has a hot date at The Tasteful Club, but things don't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Working towards completion

Sokol ran his hands under the bathroom faucet and rubbed his neck with the water. He sighed and looked into the mirror. Behind him, he could see a restroom covered in filth and graffiti. He shrugged. As long as the women’s restroom was cleaner than the men’s, the club would hold up as a nice spot for a date. He tugged at his blazer, adjusting the shoulders, then smoothed back his hair. He clicked his mouth and winked at himself in the mirror before exiting the restroom.

He headed up the stairs to the second level of the booming club. The colorful dance floor burst with energy as screaming patrons showed off their best moves. The place was packed. He doubted himself again, thinking perhaps he should have taken her someplace nicer or quieter. He cast the thought aside. The Tasteful was an exclusive club, mostly for Russian gentlemen and their dates, so he felt that would leave a fine enough impression on her.

He reached the second level and approached a nice booth upholstered with red velvet. He popped a breath mint into his mouth as he saw a beautiful head of brown hair being flipped over a perfectly tanned shoulder. He cracked his neck and slid into the booth beside her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he beamed in his Russian accent.

“Not a problem,” she smiled, sipping a martini. Her red dress showed off her fine figure and he had to try not to gawk at it but instead meet her eyes.

“I thought we might get in a little dancing. We are at a club, after all,” she said, struggling to talk over the DJ’s track.

“Oh, d-dancing? I thought we could just hang out and,” he reached for a ridiculously expensive bottle of vodka on the short table in front of them, “enjoy a few drinks.”

“You took me to a dance club- I wanna dance,” she insisted with a smile.

Sokol furrowed his brow, but had to smile. This girl was worth whatever embarrassment would surely follow on the dance floor. Rachel was a solid 10, and he wanted to make their first date one to remember. She would certainly remember the cringe-worthy dance moves that he was about to pull out of thin air, he thought.

Rachel stood and extended a well-manicured hand. Sokol took it hesitantly. She led him down another staircase and then into the crowd of dancing young adults. She immediately got into the electronic music, swaying her hips and bobbing her head. He stood still for a moment, but slowly started to step back and forth to the beat and bob his head as well. She licked her lips, then bit her lower one, looking straight into his green eyes with her brown ones. His heart was racing and he was thankful for the poorly-lit club hiding his surely-blushing cheeks.

She twirled around and he grabbed her wide hips from behind as she danced. Rachel leaned her back against his chest. Face bright red, he was not sure what to do, but he felt the strong urge to kiss her for the first time. He debated for a bit, but convinced himself that, if he was brave enough to fight off hundreds of cops and steal millions of dollars from big-name banks, he could at least kiss a girl on the cheek.

As he closed his eyes and pursed his lips to kiss her face, the sound of gunfire filled the air.


	2. Chapter 2

Sokol and Rachel turned in a panic, as did every other patron. Screams rang out among the crowd. A few men rushed from the kitchen at the back of the club. They wielded guns, searching frantically for the club’s intruders. Sokol and Rachel turned to these club security as one was immediately shot down, blood splurting from his bullet wounds as he screamed and fell to the floor. Rachel cried out and buried her face in Sokol’s jacket. “Not again!” she shouted, remembering the robbery at her workplace the last week, of which Sokol had actually been a part. The young Russian put his arms around her, holding her tightly and gritting his teeth as he sought an exit not covered by the gunmen, but he was interrupted by their appearance.

Into the light of the club’s main room stepped four men in suits and clown masks.

“Alright, everyone on the floor!” said a gruff voice from behind a mask printed with the American flag. He was apparently the group’s leader.

Terrified, the patrons slowly got to their knees, then into fetal positions, covering their faces from the horrors that would surely await them. Rachel complied, but Sokol stood firm with an expression of disbelief on his face.

Security guards fired shots at the clowns, only to be swiftly gunned down. A gunman in a white and pink mask rushed back to the club entrance to secure the doors, while another in a sinister mask with lines down the eyes moved to loot the registers from behind the club’s counters.

One criminal, wearing a mask that looked more like a demon than a clown, began zip-typing the civilians to procure them as hostages. “Hey, idiot, get the fu- Oh.” The felon looked upon Sokol’s face and laughed. “Hey, Dallas, get a load of this!”

As the gang’s leader shot down the final member of security, he glanced over to see Sokol standing among the whimpering crowd. “Well, well, well…” he started. “A trouble-maker. This one comes with us.” He motioned for Sokol to be taken to the back of the club and it was done. “Let him be a lesson to you all- don’t be a complication and you’ll be just fine.”

Rachel breathed heavily as the possibilities of what these men might do to Sokol filled her mind. She held back her tears, trying not to draw attention to herself.

Sokol was shoved against a poker table in a back room of the club. “Always a rebel,” said his captor.

“Save it, Wolfie,” replied Sokol, standing up and dusting off his jacket. “What the f*ck are you doing here tonight??”

“Vlad called,” Wolf said as he pulled up his mask and settled it atop his shaved head. “Wants us to bring this place to 1-star on Yelp,” he giggled. As Sokol rolled his eyes and thought about how his date had crashed and burned, another heister walked into the small room.

“Barred the front door, but that won’t stop them from coming through the windows or the back lot,” he said, throwing a duffel bag onto the poker table.

“Heya, Houston,” said the young Russian with annoyance in his voice.

“Whoa, Sokol, small world! Want to help me set up this drill?” he asked, unzipping the duffel.

“Not really.” Sokol moved to reluctantly help attach the drill to a reinforced door just outside the poker room.


	3. Chapter 3

“You guard this drill. We’ll set up another on the manager’s door,” said Houston to Wolf.

The man in the demon mask nodded.

Houston grabbed a second drill from the duffel bag and lead Sokol across the back part of the club to another reinforced door. “Manager’s officer is on the other side,” he explained. “We hear he’s got a safe here and behind the door Wolf is guarding. Shouldn’t be a bad payday.”

Sokol sighed as he helped Houston attach the apparatus. He was hoping fiercely that Rachel would be okay and did not manage to wander into the line of fire throughout the heist.

After they had attached the drill, Houston lay down a medkit and popped it open. He removed a surgical mask and handed it to Sokol. “Put this on.” Sokol took the doctor mask, but paused. “Trade me,” he said to Houston.

“Huh? Why?”

“Because,” he mumbled, “Ihaveadate”

“What?”

“I have a date out there, ok?! Why else would I be here?” Sokol barked.

Houston stared silently from behind his mask before bursting into laughter. Bain, too, chuckled heartily through Houston’s earpiece. He removed his mask and wiped a small tear as he took the surgical mask.

“In that case, better take my jacket too,” Houston said, removing it. Sokol put on Houston’s blazer so Rachel would not recognize his outfit. He could not believe he was so willingly jumping in on the heist while his beautiful date was being held hostage, but his heart raced at the thrill of adapting to this random occurrence. He loved the rush of his job, and an unexpected heist was even better.

“Sokol, you there?” asked Bain’s raspy voice through the mask’s earpiece.

“In the flesh,” Sokol sighed.

“Nice to have another pair of hands. This job is pretty straight-forward Just don’t let your feelings get in the way, ok? We’ve got a job to do.”

“You couldn’t tell me you were planning heist?” Sokol asked in his thick accent.

“It was a 4-man job, kid, sorry. Help out and you’ll get a cut of the cash.”

Chains came into the back room and saw Sokol standing beside Houston who had put on the surgical mask. “Playing dress up?” Chains asked.

“Careful, he’s in a bad mood,” Houston warned.

“Can I have a d*mn gun, please?” Sokol asked grumpily.

Chains took a pistol from the back of his belt and handed it to his Russian friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Romance has a hot date out there,” Houston said before getting punched in the arm by Sokol. Chains asked which lady it was, and Sokol carefully lead the way to an opening at the end of a hallway in the back of the club. He peaked his head out, thankful SWAT had not arrived yet, and pointed out Rachel.

“D*mn, kid, where’d you pick up a honey like that?” Even through her distressed expression and tear-smudged makeup, Chains could tell Rachel was a bombshell.

“Downtown at Time Out last Tuesday,” Sokol replied, reloading his pistol quickly.

“Didn’t we rob Time Out for Vlad last Tuesday?”

“Yes,” Sokol said cooly. “Trick is to ask pretty lady out on date before hiding, putting on mask, and pointing gun at her face.”

“Is that why you were unusually quiet during that heist?” Chains laughed. Sokol shrugged and tried not to grin. He had to hide his accent as best he could so Rachel would not recognize him during last week’s heist.

“You might want her back here with us when the crossfire starts,” Houston pondered. Chains agreed. Nobody liked killing civilians and Bain gave everyone quite an earful when they did, but accidents were bound to happen every now and then.


End file.
